


Rekindling

by Daraasum



Series: Myfanwy Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Post-Endgame, Reconciliation, Spoilers, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:56:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4473164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daraasum/pseuds/Daraasum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle is over and won, but Myfanwy Lavellan still has some things to deal with. First of those matters is her former lover, Blackwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rekindling

**Author's Note:**

> Quickly before you dive into the porn:  
> 1\. Myfanwy is not the Herald. She's the sister of the Herald and therefore doesn't have the Anchor, but she shares the title of Inquisitor.  
> 2\. Find me under daraasum on Tumblr!

They would be missed down at the banquet. 

Her hands groped blindly at his padded jacket, and she would have chastised him for not wearing a normal shirt had her mouth not been occupied with his needy, pressing kisses. Sneaking into the tower and kissing her breathless. Myfanwy thought of teasing Blackwall for the irony, the way he was paralleling their first kiss, but then his arms around her body pulled her close and she couldn’t make any sound save for a muffled gasp against his lips.

There was a table of little cakes, ordered straight from Val Royeaux, just down those stairs into the great hall, and she’d been eyeing them since the banquet was being set up. She’d forgotten her hunger the instant she’d seen Blackwall gazing at her through the crowd. At least, she wasn’t hungry for cakes anymore. 

They pulled apart, panting for air, the room feeling warmer than when they’d entered. His arms squeezed her closer again and Myfanwy felt her heart pound harder still. Their eyes were locked, like a standoff, each waiting for the other to speak. Blackwall gave in first. “Bed.” He growled out, stepping forward and making Myfanwy move back, but he paused. He was waiting for her, her consent or her denial, and she’d already decided what he was getting. 

Myfanwy nodded quickly. “Bed.” She growled with a smile, a teasing mockery of his tone, and she was pleased to see the corners of Blackwall’s mouth quirk up into a smile. Her hands fell from his chest to his hands, grasping and pulling him with her towards the four-poster, plush, gorgeous, bed behind her. Myfanwy had to inelegantly plant her hands on the edge of the mattress and push herself up to sit on the very edge, and her wince of pain when she did so didn’t go unnoticed. She hissed, hand twitching up to grasp her side where she’d strained the muscles too hard, and Blackwall froze.

“My lady, we don’t have to do this now, if-“ Blackwall’s voice was tinged with concern. His fingertips brushed along her arm, over the bandage wrapped around the limb. Her torso would have similar wrappings, he knew, under the thin, oversized shirt she wore.

Myfanwy groaned under her breath. “No. I want this.” Damn it all, he wasn’t going to back off in some show of concern. Not now. Nearly eight months of bloody celibacy later, eight months since they’d been in a feverish rush to get each other naked in the hayloft, and Corypheus was dead, they were alive, and she needed him naked and on top of her before the sheer weight of what had happened crushed the air out of her. Her hands shot out and took his before he had a chance to retreat. “Please.” She gave him a doe-eyed pout before a thought struck her and a grin spread across Myfanwy’s face. “I slashed the throat of a fucking dragon made of red lyrium. I want a reward, at the very least.”

-

“Anything for you.” A pleased growl rumbled up from Blackwall’s chest at the sound of her profanity. He closed the gap between them with a stride. Encouraging her to move back across the mattress to let him onto the bed, he straddled her slender legs and bent down to crush his lips against hers again. He’d heard all about slaying the dragon. Myfanwy, wiry, scrappy, little Myfanwy, sister of the famed Inquisitor Lavellan, always content to step to the shadows and give her little sister the spotlight, and still she had her glory once at Adamant and now she’d have it again- He assumed the story of her slicing the head from Corypheus’ dragon single-handedly was a bit embellished(It had to embellished, the Iron Bull was telling it to everyone who would listen), but it didn’t matter one bit to him. The wild warrior woman in his arms, squirming and grasping and making the smallest noises of pleasure against his lips, she was so full of power and fury, so much that it made his head spin, and she’d chosen someone like him…

Maker, he didn’t deserve her, but Blackwall, as always, considered himself a selfish man, and he couldn’t pass up a chance like that. Not again. He was a fool, but not enough to make the same mistake twice. 

“You’ll have to tell me the whole story another time,” He mumbled against her lips between kisses, “Tell me every bloody detail, but for now,” Blackwall pulled back, just enough to stare into her eyes, holding her gaze. “The only things I want to hear from your mouth is how fucking good I make you feel.” Myfanwy bit her lip and Blackwall felt a surge of possessiveness at the tiny whine he heard. He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed a touch of foul language, it seemed. 

His words had put a spark in the elvhen woman. The change in her expression, swooning to heated, was sudden yet smooth, as her hands slid down to grab the hem of her shirt and lift it up; Blackwall swore he felt his mouth watering at the thought of her pretty, firm, breasts being laid bare for him.

“Ow.” Her hiss slowed down the rapidly building mood when she tried to lift her arms too high for her injured arm, the pain shooting and the sensation of newly healed skin being stretched too far, stitches pulling on her side. Blackwall opened his mouth to say something, but Myfanwy was quicker. “No, no, we are not stopping. I’m fine!” She wiggled her legs under where Blackwall straddled her. “Just get these off of me.”

He couldn’t resist that order. Blackwall didn’t so much undo the laces of her trousers as he did force the leather thongs apart with frantic movements of his fingers, opening them just far enough to allow him to tug them down her thighs. From his current position, he couldn’t move the clothing any further, so he tore himself away from the warmth of her body to kneel by her feet at the end of the bed. One large hand drifted down her thigh appreciatively, stopping for a quick squeeze at her knee before Blackwall grabbed the hems of her trousers, tugging hard and sliding the garment further down off of her legs. Myfanwy grinned at his fumbling, kicking her feet and wiggling to help, until her legs were completely bare and Blackwall was depositing her trousers on the floor, out of reach. His eyes met hers again and he began to move up the bed once more, but was halted by a foot pressing into his chest. 

“Not until you’re naked.”

-

At her stern command, Blackwall’s fingers flexed and Myfanwy thought for a moment that he was going to ignore her and just begin the ravaging. She tensed her leg in anticipation in case he tried to move and pin her, ready to stand her ground. She had to show him that she wouldn’t lay there and give him the reins, not until he’d earned the right. And she was going to make him work for that right.

Blackwall gave her a smirk before moving backwards and away from her. He caught Myfanwy’s ankle as he slid from the bed and before she could do more than make a small questioning noise, he pressed his lips to the top of her foot. His blue eyes held her gaze as he kissed the appendage a moment longer. Myfanwy felt like he’d shocked her with the smallest bolt of lightning; a tingle ran from her toes and shot up her spine in an instant. The whine that escaped her when she bit down on her swollen lower lip just seemed to make the hungry gleam in Blackwall’s eyes shine brighter. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her carefully. Either he was trying to torment her, or he was still apprehensive, or he was prepared for her to call the whole thing off any moment. The heavy, padded, jacket came open, fastener by fastener, so slowly that by the time Blackwall let the blighted thing fall to the floor with a soft thump, Myfanwy was curling her toes in anticipation at just the sight of the plain, off-white shirt he wore underneath. Creators, she loved that little peek of his thick chest hair showing over the untied neckline. 

He must have read her desire plain on her face, because Blackwall smirked again and hooked two of his fingers into the collar of his shirt, tugging down and to the side as if to relieve rubbing against his neck. The motion only served to reveal more of the coarse hair she knew covered his chest and torso(among other areas, which would have her a blushing mess if she thought of them too long) and she immediately set her jaw and gave Blackwall the sternest look she could manage. “I said naked, and I meant it,” Her hand crept down and fingers coyly toyed with the laces of her smallclothes. “So get a move on.”

“A bit unfair, don’t you think?” Blackwall teased with his voice, but his shirt was stripped off in a matter of an instant. “My lady wants me bare, but you’ve not lifted a finger to undress yourself. Is that going to be my responsibility as well?” Myfanwy tilted her head and couldn’t resist licking her lips playfully at the sight of his bared chest, and the way Blackwall curled his lips like a growl told her that she wasn’t the only one feeling so aroused already. 

“Like I said before,” She sighed breathily, laying back once more with her bare legs crossed and knees bent as enticingly as she could manage. “I killed a massive dragon, and did I mention the damned thing was infested with red lyrium, not to mention I got more a little scraped in the process.” Her injured arm lifted slightly to address that statement. The wounds hadn’t been serious, though the threat of infection from the corrupted lyrium was feared. As she hadn’t gone mad or started growing red, crystalline spikes from her body, Myfanwy and the healers and resident mages had assumed that the threat had passed. “I’m a hero and I want to be rewarded like one by my big, strong, handsome, warrior.” A wide grin gradually spread across her face as she spoke, and Myfanwy wondered if she didn’t just look like the cat that got into the cream instead of the intimidating Dalish assassin that she tried to play. “Now get naked, and then you can undress me. While you’re finishing that up, I’ll decide what to do next.”  


Blackwall audibly groaned at that, though mercifully she could see desire etched on his face. She wasn’t annoying him. The nervous knot in her stomach eased and she readied herself to keep playing with her favorite shem. “Wicked, wild, woman.” He muttered under his breath, though not so quietly that she couldn’t hear. His hands picked up speed, unlacing his trousers deftly while he less than elegantly kicked his boots off. No more teasing, it seemed, when Blackwall shoved his trousers down and, to Myfanwy’s amusement, hopped out of them. “None of that,” He growled with a smile when he heard her stifled giggles. “Or you’re going to be walking funny for a week when I’m through with you.”  


“Big talk, Ser.” Myfanwy tried to sound unimpressed through her snickering. “Are you going to spank me for being naughty? I bet you couldn’t get me over your knee if you tried.”  


“I’ll only spank you if my lady asks it. And you had better ask well.” Blackwall was down to his smallclothes, fabric already straining from the bulge underneath. “But another night, if you please. Tonight, I… I only want you, my lady.” He leaned forward, hands pressing into the bed, and Myfanwy sucked in a breath sharply when the mattress shifted under his weight. He was crawling towards her, looking sinfully feral, like some wild barbarian god about to claim his prize. She was so consumed in watching his slow approach that it was a moment before she realized the path his hand was traveling. Her hand slapped on top of his before it reached its destination: the simple white smallclothes she still wore.  


“You’re still not naked.” Her protest was weak, but she couldn’t let him think he could get away with ignoring her request. Blackwall’s answer was to kiss her again, long and slow and deep, making her forget her game for the longest moment. He plied her with his lips to open just enough to tease her bottom lip with his tongue. She wanted to melt into him, her Blackwall, to lay back and let him take away all the tension and fear, everything she’d felt since the minute they’d arrived at the ruined temple to face Corypheus again…  


Not the time for that, she reminded herself, arching up into Blackwall’s body and making a muffled sound of protest into their lingering kiss, making him pull back. His nose nuzzled against hers and his beard tickled her skin ever so slightly as he spoke. “Are you all right, my lady?” His hand brushed across her cheek, rough fingertips against her skin, and for a moment she wondered if he was tracing the lines of her vallaslin as he had done before, all that time ago, before…  


Myfanwy made a choked noise. “I can’t… don’t make me think right now.”  


“My lady?”  


“Why do you still call me that?” She knew the moment that she’d said it that the words came out harsh. Damn it all, he’d had to slow her down long enough to realize the impact of what was going on. He made her remember, damn him, made her remember the talk they’d had in the barn loft. Before he laid her down and made love to her, sweet and wonderful, taking his time with her like she’d never have expected from a shem she’d found living alone in the woods. Myfanwy had dared to think of a future, after Corypheus, wrapped in the arms of her Warden, her lover, until his true calling came for him, and she fell asleep with a smile on her lips.  


She woke up alone.  


What happened after that was what Varric would have probably called a shitshow.  


After finding out the truth about Thom Rainer, even the sky splitting open and Corypheus nearly having his victory didn’t shock Myfanwy. Thom, the name that tasted bitter on her tongue, a man she’d apparently laid with but barely knew.  


She hadn’t called him Thom.  


He hadn’t called her Myfanwy.  


“Why is it always, ‘my lady’?” She whispered.  


Blackwall shook his head slowly. “Love, I don’t…”  


“Is it because of… of Blackwall? Of Thom?” Her lower lip quivered against her will. She’d gone and ruined everything. Of course she had. She had only needed long enough to forget, then maybe, maybe, they’d talk things out afterwards, but now she couldn’t even have her small measure of peace.  


Maybe she didn’t deserve it.  


“Not that.” Blackwall inhaled, closed his eyes for a moment like he was steeling himself. “Thom… Thom is… I am not a man who deserves a woman like you.” His lips brushed across hers. Halting, hesitating, like the Blackwall she’d spent months dancing around in an endless back-and-forth of should we, shouldn’t we, we can’t, but we both want this, it’s wrong, but it feels so right. He’d called her ‘My lady’ since the day they’d met.  


“I don’t care,” Myfanwy snarled to combat the tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t care about what I, or you, deserve, Blackwall or Thom, I don’t care, just, please, I…” Her hands grasped at his forearms, bitten, blunt nails scratching the coarse hair that covered them, as if to keep him from escaping from her. “We can argue about this later. I need you. I thought I was never going to see you again, twice, twice I thought I’d lost you, and-“  


He kissed her again. One long press of his lips, then several, short, desperate kisses. “Maker’s breath.” He groaned in between the smacking sounds their lips made. “You need… You need a fool of an old man like me. I won’t question it. Just tell me,” He kissed her again, then once more, then his lips were burning against her neck and Myfanwy let out a soft noise. “Everything you want. Anything you want.” He was unlacing her smallclothes and she remembered that he hadn’t followed her instructions, but that wasn’t what she wanted anymore.  


“My name.” Barely a whisper. Blackwall looked up at her with his eyes half closed. One hand braced his body over hers and his other froze at the junction of her thighs, hovering over the smallclothes that were almost falling from her hips. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.  


“Say my name.” She repeated. “I don’t want to be ‘my lady’. I’m Myfanwy. And you,” Myfanwy sighed when Blackwall kissed the dip of her collarbone. “Tell me,” She lost her train of thought when his beard brushed against her skin, but licked her lips and started over. “Tell me what to call you.”  


“Call me Blackwall. Maker. Not Thom. Thom was a weak man. He never had you. And a life without you is not one worth bringing back.” He kissed her again, sliding his thumbs into the waist of her smalls. Her breath hitched when he growled and then her smallclothes were gone. “Myfanwy,” he said, low and deep, and Creators, the sound of it made her embarrassingly warm. “Myfanwy.” Again and she was thankful that her skin was too tanned to turn completely red from the blood rushing to the surface. His hands lifted her shirt, up and over her breasts and then over her head and down her arms, surprising her with how quickly he’d avoided the issue of her injured side.  


She saw his heated gaze soften when she was bare in front of him. The healers had done their work, but she’d not wanted them to spend all their mana mending her wounds fully, not when so many of their soldiers and companions needed help. Bandages wound around her arm as well as around her torso, covering the long scratches on her side. Blackwall touched a strip of fabric with barely the tips of his fingers.  


“I thought I’d lost you.”  


His voice sounded so weak, so pained, that Myfanwy swore she felt her own heart crack open in her chest. She laid her hand on top of his and made him slide, up to the space between her breasts, where the quickening pulse of her heart could be felt. She didn’t know why she’d done it. Maybe to assure herself, instead of just him. She wanted to talk, but words wouldn’t come. He found his own instead. 

“You were… when the temple rose up. I saw you, just for a moment, and then you were gone.” Blackwall leaned over her again, letting out a shuddering exhale. “And all I could think was how I’d never be able to kiss you again.” He did so, or perhaps Myfanwy kissed him first, but all either of them could do was clutch and grasp and press their bodies together until it seemed like they would become one. Her tongue skipped the gentle tempting he typically used on her. Her forcefulness didn’t deter; In fact, it seemed to spur him on, and Myfanwy made a loud whimper when she felt him grinding his still-clothed cock against her thigh.  


“Another time for that. I believe I made a promise to have you making no noises except ones of pleasure.” Blackwall rumbled against her lips and Myfanwy felt her knees shake.  


“Yes. Please, Blackwall, please.” She tried reaching down to stroke his cock through his smallclothes, but he caught her wrist gently. She bit back a sound of frustration. She didn’t want to grind and tease and play. She wanted him to take her, or she’d climb on top and take him, pains in her side be damned, and they’d have every other time after that for the slow burn. She opened her mouth to protest before her words turned into a gasp of delight. His head had bent and his mouth found one of her small breasts, lips forming a seal around one nipple hardened in the cool air of her bedchamber. His hand not restraining her from touching him began to toy with the other, thumb circling the tightened bud while his warm, wet tongue flicked back and forth. 

Myfanwy resisted the urge to arch and press her chest into his inviting mouth. She instead settled for winding her fingers into his hair and tugging gently before clutching his head closer. “Blackwall,” She panted, and his pleased groan at the sound of her voice vibrated through her body from where his mouth latched on to her. His thumbnail scraped over her nipple and she gasped. He wasn’t bothering to torment her with teasing licks and squeezes. The rough texture of his beard tickled her breast as Blackwall made a seal around her nipple and sucked hard, as though he wanted to draw the entire mass of her small breast into his mouth.  


It was nice, the sensations he was giving her, but it wasn’t enough. Myfanwy began to squirm impatiently under the weight of Blackwall’s body, making him release her breast with an obscene pop and look back up at her face. It was apparent that he was being affected just as much, if not more, judging by the way he was drawing heavy breaths that flowed warm against her skin on each exhale. He didn’t speak; she answered the wordless question. “More.”  


Blackwall nodded slightly. The mattress shifted as he moved down, crawling backwards to where Myfanwy instinctively spread her thighs open to accommodate him. As soon as she moved, Myfanwy realized she was wet. More than she felt the slickness on her thighs and the cool sensation when they were exposed, she smelt her arousal in the air. And to her horror, Blackwall must have been able to smell it too, because he took two deliberate sniffs and kissed her groin, right above the thatch of golden brown curls that covered her more intimate regions.  


Oh, creators, she could have burned to death on embarrassment alone. Her hands came up to cover her face and she mumbled something incoherent, unsure of what to say or do. Blackwall hummed something reassuring against her skin, lips touching the inside of her thigh tenderly before his hands took over, applying gentle pressure to spread her legs further apart. She chanced a look between her fingers. He was looking at her. Not at her face. He was looking at her cunt with a hungry expression, like a starving man with a banquet laid before him, and the gleam in his eyes made Myfanwy’s body flush with heat again. A soft noise escaped her lips and Blackwall’s gaze twitched upwards.  


“Don’t be shy.” The corners of his lips betrayed a smile through the warm look he was giving her. One hand moved from her thigh and around, resting on her flat belly so her leg was over his shoulder. “Or do you want to stop?”  


Myfanwy shook her head quickly. “No, no, Creators, don’t.” Her leg tightened and pushed into his back in an attempt to move him closer. “It’s.. you’re.. you’re staring at.. it.” She made a meaningful glance downwards. What was the proper way to refer to one’s own… bits? She’d heard Sera and Bull having a laugh over some smutty novel in the library that called it a “blossoming womanhood”. “Lady parts” sounded stupid to Myfanwy. And, well…  


“At what?” Blackwall smirked, and then he touched her, just a little touch, one finger brushing down the very middle of her and gathering up the slickness there. “At this?” He cocked his head to one side, resting his temple on her thigh while his eyes dropped to look at the place his finger was touching. The callused tip twitched just barely against her clit and Myfanwy jerked, not expecting the tiny burst of pleasure. “Afraid I can’t help myself. I’m only a man, and presented with the prettiest cunt in all of Thedas-“ Myfanwy groaned and grabbed the sheets when Blackwall let the filthy word fall from his mouth. He chuckled and continued. “It would be a sin to let this go unappreciated.” His hand on her abdomen pressed down lightly as if he wanted to pin her in place. “Now then. I think you’d rather I do other things with my mouth than praise your cunt, Myfanwy.”  


Her name was almost muffled at the end, but the pleased feeling she had at hearing her name from him was overshadowed when Blackwall put his mouth to her, and oh, oh creators, his tongue, her clit, creators yes, the feeling lasted for a long moment, but suddenly too much when he pushed the tip of his tongue hard against her and Myfanwy instinctively shoved his head back and made a startled cry.  


“V-Very sensitive.” She explained breathlessly to his confused expression. “Just… not right on it? Keep going…” And he did, mercifully giving her overworked clit a rest, but Myfanwy realized in the space of a few moments that she was at the whim of a man deprived. Instead of just toying with his tongue, he’d switched to something akin to devouring her, lips and tongue working together over her cunt, and Myfanwy had nothing else to do but let her head fall back and let the pleasure do as it would.  


This was different than before, not just comparing Blackwall to her previous partners, but different from the tentative way he’d touched her during their last coupling. Had he remembered her coaxing him to be bolder with his touches? His beard rubbed roughly against her wet flesh and she made a louder moan when the sensation combined with long, broad swipes of his tongue on her. She hoped the walls of the castle didn’t carry sound too much. If the aftermath of the night spent in the barn hadn’t been so overwhelmingly awful, if she’d woken up to Blackwall snoring beside her and tiptoed back to the keep, she was certain she’d get a few pokes from her friends and companions about the noises coming from the barn loft.  


She felt rumbling against her lower lips and it took a moment in her pleasured haze to realize it was Blackwall. He was taking pleasure as he gave it, moaning while his lips and tongue worked her over, and one of his fingers traced through the slickness that he’d drawn out of her before it probed gently against her entrance. Blackwall lifted his head to gauge her expression, a silent query for her consent. “Slow,” She breathed, reaching down to clutch at his wrist before he began a slow press forward.  


8 months without him, or anyone or anything else, save for her own fingers, had obvious effects.  


She was tight. As wet as she was, his one finger was able slide easily into her and he worked it back and forth slowly. Instead of gazing eagerly at her cunt as he had done before, Blackwall kept his eyes fixed on her face. Ready for every reaction, her instructions or her orders to stop. Ever the good soldier. As he moved his finger inside her, her tight sheath loosened gradually, and as Myfanwy nodded again in assent, and the both of them moaned under their breath when Blackwall inserted a second finger into her. Her inner walls clamped and then relaxed again. Myfanwy sighed and released Blackwall’s wrist from her grip, sprawling back and opening her legs wider for him. She clamped her eyes closed and pushed the side of her face into a fluffy pillow. Creators, after all the pain and toil of the months since the preparations for the assault on Adamant Fortress, what was happening to her and her body was nothing short of bliss. Blackwall’s thumb rubbed against her, not quite on her clit where it would be too much for her, but slick with her juices and teasing the sides of the protective hood.  


Blackwall let out a long groan and Myfanwy opened one eye to glance at him. He sat up while he fucked her slowly with his fingers, and now that he was closer, she could see more clearly the effects she was having on him. His smallclothes had been straining before, but they looked ready to burst at the seams, and she felt an amusing sense of pity. He’d been toying and touching and pleasing her and she had yet to return the favor. He must have noticed how intently she was gazing at his clothed erection, because he chuckled and pushed his fingers harder into her, just once, to make her gasp. “Don’t worry about him, love.”  


“Him?” Myfanwy laughed. “Don’t tell me that you, ah, ah,” His fingers picked up their pace and she lost her words for a moment, toes curling and her balled fists grabbing at pillows. “Doesn’t he want some attention too?”  


“Once I’m through with you.” Myfanwy wanted to ask what he meant, when he would consider himself through, when she felt him scissoring his fingers inside her and her hips arched up off of the bed of their own volition. “Nnngh, Maker- Myfanwy, love, I don’t want this to hurt you. But-“ He twitched his fingers wider, just slightly, before curling them upwards to rub the rough pads of his fingertips against the upper side of her walls. “Fuck, you’re still so tight… Do you have oil, anything to help?”  


She turned and twisted her head, looking for the bedside table to point out to him. “In there, bottle of elfroot salve the healer left.” His fingers’ departure made her whine in disappointment. Blackwall clambered up beside her, yanking the drawer open and rummaging in a frantic manner. Elfroot salve would suit their needs well enough. Myfanwy had discovered its usefulness in intimate matters back with her clan, when she and her partner needed just a bit of extra help and found that asking the healer for salve was less suspicious than inquiring about oils. Asking for birthbane herb was a more awkward matter…  


Birthbane. Oh creators.  


“Blackwall,” Myfanwy sputtered out, “I haven’t, I mean… I haven’t been taking herbs, not since…”  


Not since you left, she almost said, but stopped herself. Blackwall seemed to get her meaning. He sat beside her, bottle of salve in one hand and his other on her side as lightly as he dared to, not wanting to poke or prod at her bandaged wound. “We don’t have to go for the full act, not if you don’t want to.” He murmured soothingly. “If you’re not feeling… risky, I don’t mind, Myfanwy.”  


The man was either the bane of her heart or a gift from the Creators, and she was having trouble telling which.  


She bit her lip thoughtfully before she reached out to catch the waistband of Blackwall’s smalls in her finger. “It’s all right, just don’t finish inside.” And if something happens, it happens, but she didn’t really want to breach that topic with him just yet. Perhaps over breakfast. She shoved the idea of something she didn’t want to dwell on at the moment to the back of her mind. Blackwall took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss on the knuckles, before he grinned wickedly down at her and held out the salve. Myfanwy returned the smile, taking it from him and pointing at his groin. “You need those off. I told you to be naked ages ago, and I’m very, very disappointed.”  


“I’d never disappoint you knowingly, love.” He slid off of the bed just long enough to get his smallclothes off in as dignified a manner as any man could while Myfanwy undid the stopper of the bottle. The soft pop of the cork ironically matched the bobbing of his stiff cock when it was released from its fabric confines. The sight of him fully nude, standing in front of her like some wicked desire demon in the glow of the fireplace, made Myfanwy shiver delightfully. She sat up with a coy smile and held her arms out to him wordlessly. Obediently, he came back to her arms, kneeling on the bed before embracing her and slowly easing her back to lay down under him. His bared cock rubbed against her thigh before she moved to wrap her legs around his hips, making him hiss between his teeth. Myfanwy decided she liked that little hiss. A lot.  


“Maker!”  


Myfanwy giggled, lower lip caught in her teeth. Well, that noise was just as good to her, and she kept her firm grip on his cock while she slid her hand from root to tip, back down again, steadily and slowly, letting his foreskin roll with her touches. Blackwall groaned loudly and pushed his hips forward, forcing his cock into her fist. He kissed her, moaning into her parted lips as his tongue slipped forward into her mouth. Myfanwy tasted the slightest hint of something salty and tangy on him and wondered if that was her taste, still lingering on him(Was it in his beard? Creators, maybe she should offer to wash it after they were done) and his fingers were on her, in her again. Smooth movements inside of her, rubbing a particularly sensitive spot on her inner walls, Myfanwy gasped and tightened her grip on Blackwall, earning a pleased grunt from him. Her pleasure fed his so seamlessly that their individual movements slowly synchronized, the arching of her hips into his hand matching the strokes of her hand on his cock, matching the involuntary thrusts of his hips, their rhythm an underscore to the moans and sloppy sounds of their kissing.  


“Salve.” He said roughly against her lips. Blindly, unwilling to tear away from each other, they made a fumbling exchange of the vial. Blackwall sat up, kneeling between Myfanwy’s thighs, and tipped a generous dose of the salve into his hand. Her stifled giggle when he made a face at the abundant amount didn’t go unnoticed. “I don’t want to hurt you, Myfanwy.” He said her name with a smirk that made the hot coil in her belly clench. His hand dropped down, drawing her gaze with it, and Myfanwy had to repress a desperate moan when he wrapped it around his cock firmly. He seemed in no hurry; With steady strokes from root to tip, Blackwall coated his cock until it looked shiny and wet and delicious, (though experience told Myfanwy that elfroot salve was far from tasty) before leaning over the elf underneath him. “This is going to feel good, I’m going to make this good for you,” he promised, and she was prone to agree when his lubricated fingers touched her heat. First spreading the salve on her outer lips, mixing with her own wetness, Blackwall groaned as he slid two fingers inside her. “So good, Maker, Myfanwy, I need you…”  


“Yes, yes, please,” Myfanwy whined, his fingers were good but she wanted more, needed more, needed him, and when he pulled his fingers free and lined his cock up with her entrance, she nearly cried out in relief.  


“Tell me if this isn’t comfortable.” Blackwall braced himself on his arms over Myfanwy, groaning when his cockhead breached her wet heat. He barely pushed instead of trying to take her in one full thrust, letting her sheath adjust to his cock little by little. Myfanwy bit her lip hard. The careful preparation had done so well that the slow slide and stretch was pleasant, not painful in the slightest, but something about the bulk of her lover’s body over her, the sounds of him rasping for breath as he worked his cock deeper into her, it was all so erotic that she had to remind herself to breathe. When she threw her head back and arched, Blackwall took advantage, lowering himself to rest on his elbows so he could lean down just enough to set his mouth to her exposed neck. Warm, loving kisses, matching the gentle way he pushed in just a little, then retreated to push again. Not forcing, always at her pace, and had Blackwall not chosen that moment to nip at her throat, Myfanwy might have made a connection there, but instead she yelped and bucked her hips against his. “Fuck!” He cursed when her movements forced his cock in further. Myfanwy had to agree with the sentiment. Her hands couldn’t settle anywhere; she grasped at his shoulders, the bedclothes, ran her fingers through her hair, she wanted to stretch out and arch as hard as she could and writhe, creators damn her wounded side. “Maker, fuck, Myfanwy, love, you feel… mmh… you’re so good, love, so good.” Blackwall panted, unmoving inside her.  


His words were sparking something inside Myfanwy that just added another layer to her arousal, and her desperation. She felt him shaking, his thighs rubbing hers where she had her legs loosely wrapped around him. Her hands came up to brush his thick black hair away from where it hung around their faces like a curtain. “Blackwall,” she moaned his name and felt him grunt in reply, so she did it again, drawing out the last syllables. She wound her fingers into his hair, pulling it back from his face and making him lift his head from where he had burrowed into her neck. “Blackwall, please,” The begging tone of her voice seemed to encourage him, Blackwall pressed his hips as close to her as possible, making her gasp before she could find her voice again. “Please, I need- ah- fuck, move!”  


“You can ask nicer than that, Myfanwy.” Oh no, he was not going to tease her now. Not when he almost had her thighs quivering and her brain was beginning to fry.  


“I said please!” She protested, tugging hard on his hair. Myfanwy tried to wrap her legs around Blackwall’s waist, perhaps try to force him to start moving, but she could barely get her feet to touch around his back and instead settled for keeping one foot pressing into his lower back and the other into his thigh. When he didn’t give in, Myfanwy made another desperate whine. “Blackwall, please, just move, fuck me-“  


She’d barely gotten the words out when he groaned and his hips shifted back. The drag of his cock inside her set off more sparks low in her belly, and then he was pushing back in, not hard but moving, finally moving, setting an easy pace. Myfanwy closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of him finally, finally, being joined to her again, letting the hot burn of her passion plateau until she felt like she could drift away. Rocking back and forth with his motions, the heat of his breath on her neck, his body pressing and covering her like safety and security and everything she hadn’t felt since she’d seen Haven destroyed, now she felt peaceful and creators, did she dare to say she loved this man?  


Blackwall made a loud moan next to her ear, pulling her out of her pleasured haze. “My… Myfanwy, love…” Her cunt clenched around him from the sound of his voice and his slow thrusts stuttered in pace. “I need... ah, fuck… Can I move faster?”  


She thought for a moment of withholding permission. Tormenting him for making her beg for his cock. But she felt him tremble, and the ache building between her thighs and tingling in her clit reminded her that release could be in reach for her as well. “Yes. Yes, Blackwall, yes, go on,” She breathed.  


The softness of her tone turned into a yelp at the end when Blackwall rose up, leaving her still laying back with her legs around his hips. Her bottom and lower back suspended off of the bed, Myfanwy looked up at Blackwall, still panting softly, as he grinned down at her. His hands held her hips firmly, supporting her, as he shifted to kneel with Myfanwy half in his lap. “Ready?” She nodded enthusiastically. Her hands wound into the bedsheets on either side of her head. Blackwall rolled his hips, groaning as he tested the position and giving a pleased smirk when Myfanwy bit her lip and threw her head back against the bed. “Say it. Out loud. Myfanwy.” He demanded, thrusting his hips deep and stopping with his cock buried inside her.  


Myfanwy’s voice rose in volume when Blackwall thrust again, and again, picking up speed with each pull back and push in. Both lovers cursed, moaned, Myfanwy whimpered and cried out and Blackwall was grunting like a beast, their bodies making dirty slapping noises when he pounded against her. Blackwall stared down at Myfanwy with his stormy blue eyes lit up, gaze flicking from her face, her body covered in a faint sheen of sweat and the twining lines of her vallaslin on her skin, watching her tiny breasts somehow managing to bounce every time he thrust in. Her whines were growing higher and higher pitched and the tight coil inside her was twisting tighter and tighter, she needed to let go, she needed release, she needed just something more. Her hand slithered down, fingers stopping just above where his cock pistoned inside her. She pressed, not directly onto her clit but instead pressing the skin of her outer labia down, applying just the indirect pressure she needed. Her movements didn’t go unnoticed by Blackwall. The sight of her touching herself seemed to spur him on, and his hips picked up speed.  


“Are you close? Can you come like this?” He questioned breathlessly, not letting up on his pace, eyes fixed on her fingers rolling around and rubbing herself. When she nodded and made an affirmative whine, he growled, deep in his chest, and his fingers dug harder into her hips.  


She didn’t have the brainpower to wonder if he would leave bruises. She was close, so close, she just needed something more to tip her just that little bit further. Something to push her over the edge she was treading, something, anything, and all she could think to do was grasp a breast in her free hand and pinch the hard bud of her nipple painfully hard, and there it was. Her climax started, spreading through her body and limbs like a wave, making her cunt clamp down hard while she cried out, probably loud enough for everyone in the keep to hear. Over her own voice and the roaring in her ears drowning out the world, she was faintly aware that Blackwall was swearing, the unhinged pounding of his cock into her only drawing out her peak.  


Before she had a chance to come down, Blackwall slipped from her, one hand wrapped tight around the base of his cock. Her whine at suddenly being empty changed to a gasp of surprise when he tugged his cock once, twice, and stiffened, and his seed spilled in hot spurts across her belly. One particularly powerful glob landed almost at her collarbones.  


Both of them were speechless for the longest moment, catching their breath and recovering from the intensity of their respective orgasms enough to come back to reality and survey the mess they’d made.  


“Wow.”  


Myfanwy giggled, looking down at her belly and the streaks of seed spattered across her, down to Blackwall where he still knelt between her thighs with his cock in hand. His free hand rested on her hip, thumb stroking her gently, soothing the little aftershocks making her tremble. “Are you all right? Was I too rough there?” He asked worriedly.  


“Creators, no.” Myfanwy lazily squirmed, stretching her back and enjoying the few moments post-orgasm where the remaining adrenaline acted as a painkiller, soothing away the ache in her side enough for her to use muscles that had been knotted for days. The sweat on her skin was cooling, even with the fireplace still crackling, and when Blackwall pulled back and moved away, she murmured in protest at the loss of his warmth.  


Blackwall chuckled. “One moment, love.” A towel was found quickly enough, mercifully, and Blackwall quickly cleaned himself before returning to the bed where Myfanwy still lay, not having moved an inch from where he’d left her. “My apologies,” He said bashfully. With gentle swipes of the towel, he began to wipe his seed off of her skin. “It’s, eh, been a little while, since I’ve.. well, you see what I mean.”  


Myfanwy stayed quiet save for a soft, pleased humming here and there, until Blackwall was through and the dirty towel was deposited in her laundry bin. She was shivering more by then, more than willing to accept when Blackwall laid next to her and wrapped her up tightly into his arms. Safe, again, and she closed her eyes and snuggled up to his warm chest. “Stay.” Myfanwy whispered.  


“Don’t want to go rejoin the party?” Blackwall laughed quietly, stroking his fingers through Myfanwy’s short hair and tucking her closer against his body. “I thought you couldn’t wait to get some of those little cakes Josephine got.”  


“Too tired. And I’d need a bath first and I don’t want to make any of the servants haul water up here when it’s, it’s,” She yawned, “It’s a night for everyone to celebrate, hm?”  


“Aye,” Blackwall agreed, grabbing the tousled blanket and pulling it over their naked bodies, both of them sighing at the warmth and pressing their bodies impossibly closer.  


They still had a road ahead of them. Still a ways to go on the road they’d began right there in her room, when he kissed her and told her they’d regret it.  


And she wouldn’t have given it up for all of the banquets in Orlais.


End file.
